


Coming To An End

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Drama, Grief, Reader and Dean's relationship is not the focus here, Readers gender never spoken, whoa for the first time ever I didn't write a smut or humor fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 15:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11626644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Every journey has it's ending.





	Coming To An End

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! 
> 
> This is my very first spn fic and also my first reader fic. I usually write for another fandom, but I decided to try my hand in this one. :) I'm a big fan SPN, so I hope I did somewhat ok with this one. Hopefully I didn't screw it up too bad...

Another deep roar rumbles overhead as the clouds bruise together in various shades of purple and black. Their hold slowly ripping apart as the contents attempt to break free and cover the earth blow.

  
The dull leaves of autumn shake as the wind blows through the trees that engulfed the secluded clearing, swaying to and fro as the winds pick up some mirth. Their brewing gusts waving to all that could see and to all that could feel.

  
Sadly, with those developments, it was time to go.

  
“Dean,” You ask with a whisper, your left hand slowly moving over to comfort and rub the back of the crumbling man that stands beside you. Your wedding ring snagging a bit on the worn out leather after every pass. “Dean? Baby It’s time to go.”

  
Turning his head towards you with wide emerald eyes, eyes that were encased with a thick red rim around those almond lines — nothing but devastation and loss beating within those irises as the tears that he refused to shed try their hardest to push through his built up barrier and show.

“It is?”

  
Trying your best to stay strong for your husband, your own resolve breaking and quivering with every second that passes.

“Yeah, baby. It’s time.”

  
You both glance up to the sky after another cackle and groan breaks from up above, the rain making it’s first appearance with thin scattered drips and drops — enough to flatten your hair but not yet strong enough to chill your bones.

  
Nodding his head slowly as he walks away from your reach and towards the dimming amber of ash and dust, Dean clenches his fist — open and closed, open and closed — in an attempt to keep himself grounded and not allowing himself to fully break.

  
Not yet, he has to stay strong. He has to stay strong.

  
Inches from his feet that moments ago sat large sturdy poles of oak, now laid scattered scorched splinters and chunks of smoky wood and rope — their heat pulsing with a skip and a hiss.

  
Lowering his head and staring down at the pile, Dean sniffles hard as he goes to bend into a kneel.

  
“Dean,” You ask with a watery hiccup, worry and sorrow lacing his name,  “Honey?”

  
All you get back is a raised hand and a crippling sounding sigh, signaling you to give him just one more minute. “I’m ok, y/n/n. I’m ok.”

  
Nodding at the back of his head, knowing damn well he was far from ok, you go to take your leave like he asked.

  
You had both been together for a number of years and you knew from experience when Dean Winchester needed his space. “Take all the time you need, Dean. I’ll go pack up baby.”

  
Hearing the slosh of your boots through the muddy grass as you walked away from him, Dean finally allows some tears to fall.

  
“I’m going to miss you so goddamn much, Sammy.”

  
His eyes never leaving the wide patch of black and faded red as he reaches out across from himself to start digging through the soil, not caring if his flesh burns or stings. “Do you remember when you gave me this?”

  
The only reply he gets back is a few cackles of burning wood, the last few pieces finally giving way under the warmth and weight of the wilting flames.

  
Digging further into the earth until he gets the hole deep enough to withstand overgrowth and weather, Dean continues to speak out to the void. “I wore it almost every damn day, hell it’s probably the most important thing I have outside of y/n, baby, and you.”

  
A chill runs down his back as a sudden strong gust of wind blows against his sides, making the grass at his legs sway around his kneecaps like a firm hug.

  
Sitting back on his hunches, Dean closes his eyes and speaks with affection. “I want you to keep it for me, Sammy. Keep it safe. Can you do that?”

  
A voluptuous boom explodes deep within the sky, punctuating like a phantom reply to Dean’s hushed question, causing the man to rapidly blink and hold back a shake.

  
Reaching up to his neck, not caring that he is getting his skin and shirt trashed with grit, Dean gently grabs the cord and lifts it from his head. “I want you to keep it and know I will always be there, Sam. Aways. Even though you’re not here anymore, you will always be my brother and I will always be with you.”

  
Tears ever more so flowing down his chapped face like an overrun river, their weight now too heavy to be kept caged up any longer, Dean pushes the amulet up to his lips and kisses it softly. “You watch over this for me and keep it safe until we see each other again. Cause you best fucking believe I will be seeing your ass again. Heaven or hell won’t stop me.”

  
Leaning forward and gently pushing the necklace into the fresh hole, Dean lets out a soft chuckle with a sad smile. “And when I do see you, you better have it, Sam — or I’ll be kicking your sasquatch ass all over creation!”

  
Picturing his brother laughing at that comment, Dean smiles for a second longer. For just a second he almost forgets; everything almost feels ok.

  
But it’s not. Sam is gone and nothing will be ok ever again.

  
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Dean goes back to the task at hand.

  
Scooping up the excess dirt from where he first dug, Dean starts packing it down into the hole until it was fully filled. “I love you, Sammy. You were never a burden. You were never an issue. You made me proud each and every day. Every damn day.”

  
Patting the top till flat, satisfied with how it looks Dean moves to stand up and dust off his hands.

  
With one last glance at his brother’s final resting place, Dean lets out a broken sob. “Bitch.”

  
Standing there, waiting, waiting for that ‘jerk’ to be thrown out, hoping, just hoping this was all an illusion.

  
But it never came and it never would again.

  
Turning around on his heels, needing to get as far away from this place as possible, Dean strides back over to the impala and you — all while frantically clearing the tears from his face.

  
“Do you want me to drive, honey? I will if you need me to.” You ask when your husband silently walks up to you and kisses the top of your head.

  
Nodding his head with a plea, Dean responds with a mutter. “Please.”

  
Squeezing his arm as he walks past you to the passenger side of the car, you let out a soft, “ok.”

  
Closing the trunk tight, you make your way to the driver’s side and step into the car.

  
Taking the keys and putting them into the ignition and bringing baby to life, you chance a look over to your husband — what you see breaks your heart into pieces.

  
Curled up into himself is Dean, trying his best to not let anything show but failing miserably.

  
Turning the car back off, you reach over to Dean and snuggle him into your embrace. Rubbing his back as your own tears flood your cheeks.

  
“He’s gone, y/n! My brother is gone!’” He wails, the dams finally broken, his resolve no longer viable.

  
“I am so incredibly sorry.” You cry as you squeeze him tighter to your body, making sure he knows he is safe and that you’re there. “I am so sorry, baby.”

  
“It should have been me! ME!” Dean yells as he tries to pull away from you.

  
Tugging him closer, rocking as you prevent him from running away from this, you grab the back of his head and push him into the crook of your shoulder. “Don’t you dare, Dean Winchester. Don’t you fucking dare!”

  
You both sit there in that tight embrace for what seemed like hours, whispering proclaims of love and promises to never leave — the rain slowly coming to a drizzle the longer you two stay parked, your eyes begins todo the same.

  
“Y/n?” Dean speaks out with exhaustion on his tone, pulling away a bit to look at your face. “I love you.”

  
Reaching up to wipe some tears from your husbands swollen face, you lean forward to kiss him softly on the lips, tasting the salt leftover from the outburst. “I love you, too, Dean.”

  
Letting go of you for a second so you could move back behind the wheel, Dean goes to lay across the bench seat, his head in your lap. “Is this ok?” he asks into your stomach.

  
Turning the key and bringing baby to life once again and putting the car into gear, you look down and smile gently at the drowsy man below. “Always.”

  
Burrowing his face into your abdomen while wrapping his free arm around your middle, Dean’s breathing finally settles as the forever comfort of baby rocks him to sleep.


End file.
